John Wayne’s Lost Legacy

Hollywood's icon of masculinity acted like he lived: plainly and honestly.

Major General Graves B. Erskine and John Wayne on Set of “Sands of Iwo Jima,” 1949. From the Graves B. Erskine Collection (COLL/3065) at the Marine Corps Archives and Special Collections

John Wayne’s gravestone in Corona del Mar, California, is marked with the following inscription: “Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It’s perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we’ve learned something from yesterday.” It’s a lovely sentiment—poetic in its way, and more than a little unexpected coming from the gun-slinging “Duke” of the Hollywood western. But it’s tragic, too, because tomorrow has not been kind to John Wayne, if we take “tomorrow” not in the narrow and literal sense, meaning the day following the current one, but in the expansive and, yes, poetic sense, meaning all that comes after. In fact, by the time he spoke those words in a 1971 interview with Playboy, tomorrow had already decided it didn’t have much to learn from John Wayne.

The man born Marion Morrison in Winterset, Iowa, in 1907 had one of the most enviable careers in the history of film. But in terms of his profession—movie actor—and the influence his legacy has had on the industry he dominated for several decades in his prime, well, let’s just say that Wayne’s mid-century style of film acting is more than just obsolete; it bears no resemblance whatsoever to the craft as it is currently practiced. Nobody does it like that anymore (except maybe Clint Eastwood). Actors today trace their professional lineage not to Wayne, or highly regarded contemporaries such as Spencer Tracy or Jimmy Stewart, but to the brutal emotional realism of Marlon Brando and, through him, to the American “method” of acting developed by the Group Theatre in the early 1930s. Brando’s spellbinding performance as Stanley Kowalski in 1951’s “A Streetcar Named Desire” touched off a revolution and made the film acting that came before it seem like a classic case of same genus, different species. Brando did to Wayne what the iPod did to the Walkman—both play music, but the similarities end there.

Buried deep within Scott Eyman’s large new biography, John Wayne: The Life and Legend, is an anecdote from the set of 1961’s “The Comancheros” that captures the artistic distance between Wayne’s lunch-bucket approach to acting and the method madness of Brando’s apostles. Michael Curtiz (of “Casablanca” fame) was the film’s credited director, but Wayne was forced to step in and direct numerous scenes when Curtiz, battling terminal cancer, became too weak to work. The film’s female lead, Broadway actress Ina Balin, was set to play a short scene with Wayne, who was eager to shoot it, print it, and move on. Balin wanted to explore her character’s motivations and asked for a rehearsal. Wayne consented, but whispered to cinematographer William Clothier to roll film as they “rehearsed.” When the scene was finished, Balin was shocked to hear Wayne bark, “Cut. Print. See how easy this is?” According to co-star Stuart Whitman, when Balin would “dig down and get emotional” Wayne would mumble under his breath, “Get the goddamn words out.”

Wayne’s general attitude toward the craft of acting—“get the goddamn words out”—is not dead. Many actors and directors work quickly. But no well-regarded modern, American actor focuses, as Wayne and his ilk did, exclusively on the external attributes of a character. “Wayne was a member in good standing of a pre-Method generation of actors,” writes Eyman, “whose general intent was, as James Cagney put it, ‘Look the other actor in the eye and tell the truth.’” Wayne was obsessed with being truthful on screen, even if that meant turning down offers from good directors of meaty parts that he felt he couldn’t authentically carry off. He employed a handful of writers whose job was to finesse his lines so that they sounded genuine coming out of his mouth. Wayne was equally committed to preserving his image. He was, Eyman writes, “emotionally committed to playing only John Wayne parts.” These were parts that looked like a man should look and acted like a man should act. When a still photographer on the set of “True Grit” snapped a few shots of the aging Wayne riding not on a horse but a on a specially outfitted mechanical saddle, the star ran him down and smashed his camera. “He was always going to be in the John Wayne business, always going to be protecting the franchise,” says Eyman.

Wayne couldn’t fathom why other stars weren’t as diligent has he was about “protecting the franchise.” At the 1957 premier of Vincente Minnelli’s “Lust for Life,” Wayne upbraided star Kirk Douglas for playing the part of Vincent van Gogh like a “weak queer.” “How can you play a part like that? There’s so few of us left. We got to play strong, tough characters,” said Wayne.

If Eyman is to be believed, John Wayne was really John Wayne. The actor known for playing strong, tough characters was a strong, tough character in real life, too. He loved making westerns because it allowed him to spend his days outdoors doing vigorous, physical things. For recreation, he liked nothing more than fishing for giant salmon off the coast of Vancouver in his 136-foot yacht, Wild Goose, a decommissioned Navy minesweeper. He enjoyed the company of manly men, such as frequent co-star Ward Bond and screenwriter James Edward Grant, and was never happier than when playing a game of poker outside a tent on location in Mexico. There was always a bottle of tequila on the table.

This is a panoramic and entertaining book. It brings the fast-fading world of classic Hollywood into sharp focus. If it has one flaw, it’s in the author’s clear disdain for his subject’s conservative politics. Wayne was involved in the blacklisting of Hollywood communists, Eyman believes, through his long association with the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals, an organization dedicated to turning back the efforts of “Communist, Fascist, and other totalitarian-minded groups to pervert this powerful medium into an instrument for the dissemination of un-American ideas and beliefs.” Furthermore, Wayne supported the Vietnam War. Eyman quotes a letter sent by Wayne to President Lyndon Johnson asking for help coordinating the filming of “The Green Berets”: “Let’s make sure it is the kind of picture that will help our cause throughout the world.” A red-hunting supporter of America’s Southeast Asian military misadventures? Nothing could be more grotesque to the modern liberal mind. But while it’s understandable that Eyman doesn’t share Wayne’s conservatism—not everyone does—it’s off-putting that the author is so desperate to let the reader know it. This is the mark of a snob.

Wayne’s politics can be summed up very simply: he loved America and he hated communism; he loved liberty and he hated dependency; he thought the movies were the best thing going and he didn’t want them turned into a left-wing propaganda tool. Yet, for all Eyman’s antipathy, and for all Wayne’s deeply held convictions, the book makes it plain that the star was a straight-shooter who refused to hold a co-worker’s creed, color, politics, or sexuality against him. “For Wayne,” according to Eyman, “personality always trumped politics; if he liked you, he was willing to overlook your ideology.” One doubts that this spirit is much in evidence in today’s film industry. Hollywood still has a lot to learn from yesterday.

Matthew Hennessey is an associate editor of the Manhattan Institute’s City Journal.

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61 Responses to John Wayne’s Lost Legacy

Erskine was called in by Allan Dwan (who I believe is the third person in the photo), the director of the Sands of Iwo Jima, for technical and other support. Erskine was running Camp Pendleton (where the film was shot), in southern California, at the time, and had also commanded the Third Marine Division during the battle of Iwo Jima.

Erskine provided the filmmakers with drill sergeants, who put the young actors (who apparently couldn’t keep up with Wayne at the bar) through their paces. Other Marine generals also provided technical support, and, apparently, did a good job. Supposedly, the pillboxes and bunkers and so forth shown in the film were so realistic that Erskine left them standing in the camp to be used for real Marine training. The film was shown to actual Marine recruits up to the 1980’s.

Wayne was apparently reluctant to take the part, because of his age (42) and because he thought people were tired of WWII movies. It really is an outstanding movie, with great acting, including from Forest Tucker. And, as I mentioned, the movie does not glorify or prettify war. Of course, it is not as graphic as more modern war (and other) movies. But it does show how even an innocent mistake can lead to disaster, and how even the best soldier can be killed by a random bullet.

Erskine was called in by Allan Dwan (who I believe is the third person in the photo), the director of the Sands of Iwo Jima, for technical and other support. Erskine was running Camp Pendleton (where the film was shot), in southern California, at the time, and had also commanded the Third Marine Division during the battle of Iwo Jima.

Erskine provided the filmmakers with drill sergeants, who put the young actors (who apparently couldn’t keep up with Wayne at the bar) through their paces. Other Marine generals also provided technical support, and, apparently, did a good job. Supposedly, the pillboxes and bunkers and so forth shown in the film were so realistic that Erskine left them standing in the camp to be used for real Marine training. The film was shown to actual Marine recruits up to the 1980’s.

Wayne was apparently reluctant to take the part, because of his age (42) and because he thought people were tired of WWII movies. It really is an outstanding movie, with great acting, including from Forest Tucker. And, as I mentioned, the movie does not glorify or prettify war. Of course, it is not as graphic as more modern war (and other) movies. But it does show how even an innocent mistake can lead to disaster, and how even the best soldier can be killed by a random bullet.

Look dude, I get that you and I are on opposite sides of this argument, but I clearly never said he was a draft dodger. If you are upset that I linked to an Snopes-like article with a headline that asks rhetorically about whether Wayne was a draft dodger (then proceeds to answer the question with detail and nuance) then I can certainly find another link that will make the same exact point. Or I can explain to you how the internet works. Either way it doesn’t change the fact that I never called him a draft dodger (which is really the only thing you truly dispute in your responses to me).

This is not rhetorical wiggling. I used the term chickenhawk in my comments for a very specific reason. I would elaborate but something tells me that you’re the only one who still needs to be convinced of this so I will move on since you actually have no evidence to back up your claim whatsoever and are resorting to attributing rhetorical headlines written by others to my thoughts.

@Hibernian: If we are just talking about Hollywood film stars, Henry Fonda was 37 with a wife and 3 kids when he enlisted.

Sorry I couldn’t find a better source, but Wayne’s Wiki page also confirms Fonda’s age at the time of his enlistment.

Again, I DO NOT PERSONALLY fault Wayne or think that much less of him for making the decisions he did. But its pretty clear that a large portion of John Wayne fans are more or less ideologically wedded to the idea that he was a real life Rooster Cogburn or Hondo. This in itself would not be so annoying if the myth of John Wayne as a real life tough guy and war hero hadn’t had such a negative effect on our modern day politics (see George W. Bush’s 2004 campaign for a perfect example of how destructive this mentality can be when they are internalized by a large portion of the electorate).

Can’t speak for others, but I have repeatedly made the point that I do not necessarily hold that much malice or ill thought towards John Wayne or the decisions he made in his life. I take objection to the way Wayne (but mostly his devout conservative fans) completely bought into and internalized an on-screen persona and projected it to both the real John Wayne as well as American politics as a real life example of applying conservative principles in life. The fact that Wayne supporters cannot cite ACTUAL evidence of Wayne’s supposedly legendary brand of bravery or grit outside of his film career should tell you everything you need to know about the myth that has been built up around him.

There are tons, TONS of conservative (and as you point out, liberal) men and women who fought bravely in wars. Many who gave up families and careers. That Wayne is placed almost above these people because he had political views that many Wayne fans identify with should offend you more than anything else.

As I said, I don’t agree that Wayne really lived up to his on screen persona, his stereotype/role model for American men. And it does bother me when people pretend that he did so, and pretend that equates with actual military service, because they agree with his political views. But I see no reason to call him either a “draft dodger” (which I realize you did not do, but others have) or even, as you have done, a “chickenhawk.”

To my mind, Wayne was entitled to his views about Vietnam even though I disagree with them and even though he did not serve in WWII when, arguably, he could have. As I said, Wayne did not break the law, and was entitled to the deferment he took. Again, my beef with Wayne would be a political one, not a personal one. But, actually, I have no beef with him at all, because, to me, he is an actor, not a politician.

And, in all honesty, I think the focus should be on what he was, which was an iconic actor, an actor whose career began in the silent era and who helped put Hollywood to bed in the 1970’s, who worked with legendary directors and co stars, who made some outstanding movies, and many, many serviceable ones (as well as some duds too). That and on his attempts to produce movies as well. In other words, as a movie star, as person involved in film making, not as a purveyor of political views or even as a “person” (in the sense of good or bad), per se.

And I see that focus as being lost, yes, as you say, in making the error of equating him with his on screen persona, but equally in proffering political or personal charges against him, whether the charge is “draft dodger” or “chickenhawk.”

Wouldn’t it be better to just judge Wayne as an actor and movie maker, and leave out the political and personal charges altogether?

OK, it is wrong to say that his political views are the same thing as actual military service, or that he lived up to his on screen persona. But must we call him a “chickenhawk?” I see no reason to do so. He had every right to his views about Vietnam, even if I disagree with them and even if he didn’t serve in WWII, when, arguably he could have, and his fictional persona would have. His deferments were legal, and he did nothing wrong in taking them. Frankly, I don’t even care about his politics, much less whether he was a “good” or “bad” person (or what exact combination of the two).

Since this first got posted. I have been unclear how to respond until I heard that Harry Chapin tune yesterday.

I don’t think the legacy of John Wayne is lost. It may be muted in our current, “don’t hurt my feelings or I’ll have you in court,” culture.

As I listened to Harry’s tunes yesterday, here was a man who spoke his mind as did John Wayne. That legacy remains. My concern is that it is embedded in too many feminine voices who are not subject to the rigors that shaped voices of frankness. “Nuke’m till they glow,” is just an unwelcome refrain as it once was. The ‘literalization’ of language hyperbole has just taken so much of the character out of our communication dialogue, that name calling just isn’t as fun as it used to be. But frank communication hasn’t left the American psyche’. It just dormant. One can sense it just beneath the surface. That male longing just to spit it out.

Totally agree. In the context of “I like John Wayne’s movies, I like the roles he played, I like that he played tough guys, etc” I have ZERO problems with that. That’s personal and artistic taste and there’s nothing objectionable about being a fan of his movies and of him as an actor.

But I don’t think I’m reading anything into this piece that isn’t explicitly stated: That John Wayne was a man’s man in real life, a tough gritty hero with simple, honest, uncomplicated views who lived his life the way his characters lived theirs. That’s where I and others draw the line, because it is a patently dishonest projection on the part of his (more conservative) fans.

You are free to be more forgiving than I am. Personally I think that those preach the urgent need of others to go and fight in a foreign country for an ideological cause should at least show some demonstration that they were willing to put their own bodies and lives at risk when they had the chance. Wayne certainly flirted with military service, applying to the Naval Academy and talking with friends about his desire to serve, but the records show that when it came time to actually take definitive steps towards doing so, he backed off and had other priorities.

Does that make him a terrible person? No. It means that those who admire tough, simple minded, gritty conservatives who put their money where their mouth ought to look to other examples and stop citing Wayne. Lord knows there are plenty of others who deserve that kind of reverence if that’s your thing.

I used to be concerned about those who didn’t serve. And while It’s noteworthy, the fact that could be drafted is enough. has the service of Sen McCain is a case in point. That service, having experienced war upfront does not seem to have made him more prudent about the use of force. Women are not yet eligible for the draft, they are aren’t lining up or chomping at the bit for combat arms. But those in Congress save one as I recall after 9/11 had the courage to oppose the wars as well as run for the executive office.

The old are not supposed to fight wars. that is a younger man’s game and well it should be. The reason the young die is because they are the most fit for the physical requirements to fight a battle. Most men don’t fight, but as demonstrated repeatedly, if push comes to shove — they are all foot soldiers, including John Wayne.

There’s no real fault in a more caring gentler man – but then I have never thought of men and uncaring and gentleness — well, there’s a time and place for even that. I have been watching the Donna Reed Show, Leave it to Beaver and the Rifleman. And I gotta tell say. Whatever, the fault of those programs — the men are not uncaring, unfeeling about their children.

Being celibate and considerate hasn’t paid off well with women, and least not the women I know. Neither has supporting their issues. I see no more increased gentleness in the world with open homosexuality. The politics isn’t any clearer or cleaner, the tactics are anymore above board – if anything in all of these areas – it seems worse.

There’s no indication that john Wayne launched any campaigns to have people terminated because they were democrats or engaged in same sex relations even when it was private. Sure, I grew up with Army Men and model jet fighters, that was the coming of age and the the priming for what was expected of manhood. The John Wayne in films was in fact, the model for the harder edges in life. Life is tough, it’s grueling. It can be thankless and unforgiving regardless of the politically correct associations. The women I have met in the professional world have not been kind, or considerate. They have been demanding, cruel and incredibly insensitive despite all of the accommodation given them. I remember, in 1999 when I called up the ACLU to speak to an attorney, that woman was dismissive and even laughed as I sifted through concerns in preparation for some suspicions I had. I felt mighty small, though my conversation was just seeking information. The homosexuals and liberals who visit this sight have not been gentle or caring or considerate and by all accounts they don’t seem to be considerate anywhere else. They give as good as they get. And nothing seems to be cooling the heels of the demands of emotional sensitive set. It used to be fun to engage liberals, you just bored through it. But the stakes have become so high and allegiances so precarious — I have no idea who the enemy is. I used to think people did dumb things at work because sometimes we as people just do dumb things.

Neither women, nor liberals, are by definition my enemies. But they have worked very hard to ,make it so

Unlike some of the posters here. I as a child briefly knew John Wayne and some of his children. One of my uncles lived in the high desert of California where I was frequently sent during school vacations.

John Wayne owned an unobtrusive little ranch hide-away in Randsburg California near a secret place called China Lake.

Mr. Wayne would fly up there to just get away from Los Angeles, ride horses, shoot, smoke and drink to much. Randsburg had this saloon that Mr. Wayne would go to. He fit right in. The local miners treated him like one of their own and not a star. The saloon had a real western history with bullet holes in the walls and beams. Men gunned down in the saloon. For a kid like me they served cold ice cream. Mr. Wayne would come in wearing blue jeans with up turned cuffs, cowboy riding boots, spurs, leather vest, wide hat, neckerchief and a gun belt. His everyday dress at Randsburg was the same as he looked in the movies.

He was in life just like in the movies. Mr. Wayne did not act. He played himself.

One thing I did learn. Overheard in conversations between local old WW2 veterans and fellow pilots. Mr. Wayne was an accomplished aviator with hundreds of air hours at the stick before WW2. Both single and multi-engine aircraft. He was a friend of Howard Hughes and Jack Northrop. He flew some hot fast aircraft when he wanted to. Before 1941 he was a rarity and valuable to the budding Army Air Corps and Naval Aviation as an experienced pilot. But what I heard was that he wanted to fly on the front lines if he joined up as a junior officer or joe blow citizen enlistee. He was willing but the budding Pentagon Brass wanted him for USO, public relations selling war bonds or a training Instructor slot. They wouldn’t let him go near the front lines and into combat. They told him so. So he turned down their “paper-hanging job” and made movies. He also did the war bonds promo’s and USO tour with Bob Hope but as a private citizen. He said that he didn’t need to be an Lt. to do that.

How many big name actors of the lat 1930’s were allowed up front?

Actor and fellow aviator, Jimmy Stewart was stuck in Instruction Pilot slots, recruiting and training films for three years before he managed to finagle his way into a Bomber Group that was fitting up for Europe operations. Even then the Brass kept trying to ground him in some way but he kept finding ways to scam operational missions from even allied air forces. He earned his combat awards, despite the Brass.

Mr. Wayne wasn’t up for fighting the Brass to do what he wanted, which was to be upfront flying a fighter or an attack bomber just like anyone else.

He said, he wasn’t the kind of duplicitous or scheming patient man to wait years to get his chance for combat. He had enough of that in Hollywood.

Although it was four years since The Searchers movie was released when I first met him. He was dressed just like he had been in that movie. He was a big, straight shooting wild man with a really big horse (compared to the one my uncle let me ride). He had a great smile for the few kids who lived in Randsburg and even drunk I never heard a mean word. He did not pretend to be anything other than what he was.